


Give Me Excess of It

by LateStarter58



Series: Sarah's Smutty Notebook [19]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: F/M, opera - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 21:03:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17067077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LateStarter58/pseuds/LateStarter58
Summary: Shakespeare comes in many forms...





	Give Me Excess of It

**Author's Note:**

> The idea for this came to me when I was watching a DVD of Falstaff over the Christmas period when Tom was appearing in Coriolanus and it occurred to me that the Donmar and the ROH are quite close to each other, and that a singer might bump into an actor on the Tube, with smutty results… This was the first one shot I wrote purely to be smut, so it might seem a bit, well, amateurish.   
> I love the opera, and Falstaff is my very favourite. The lines Juliet sings in the story are particularly beautiful. Try to listen to or watch the scene if you can: search for Verdi’s Falstaff, Act 1 Scene 2. Or better still, go see the whole opera! It is funny and not at all boring.

 

**_‘Bocca baciata non perde ventura… Anzi rinnova come fa la luna…’_ **

It was trying to rain again. Juliet hunched and pulled her scarf up to her chin as she felt the sharp prickles of the icy raindrops on her exposed cheeks. It would have been nice to get home in the dry for once. The chilly air hurt her tired throat, so she tugged the scarf higher again, until it covered her mouth. The moist air made the scent from the roses rise up to her nose. She smiled.

_Must be doing ok._

Juliet knew who had thrown the bouquet on the stage tonight. The man was a big opera fan, and he spread his favours around.  He had high standards, so she knew she had passed a test of some kind. Turning the corner, she saw the underground sign ahead. She’d soon be in the dry, at least for a while.

_Maybe it will have stopped by the time I’m back outside._

As she hurried along the wet pavement, Juliet thought about the evening’s performance. For once, everything had gone pretty smoothly. _Falstaff_ is the nearest Verdi gets to farce, and this production maximised the comedy. Consequently, there was a lot of running around, both on and off stage, including up and down stairs in order to appear at various “windows” in the set. That was exhausting enough, without having to sing as well. But she had to admit it was enormous fun, especially when it went well and the audience laughed in all the right places, as they had tonight. And at least there was only one costume change.

As she was entering Holborn station, a tall man in a dark quilted jacket swept past her, striding quickly.

_Nice arse…_

Juliet admired the view as she followed him through the barriers, continuing her personal review of the performance **.** Jean-Pierre had been as lovely as usual. This was the first time she had actually had to snog the tenor in a production and it was awkward because she was just a little bit in love with him.

_He’s married of course.  It’s hard enough to meet men my age in this job, without all the straight ones being taken._

But J-P had been kind and supportive from the start. He knew what it was like to make your debut at a big house, and so he had gone out of his way to make her feel comfortable in the love scenes. Which meant all of their scenes, come to think of it. Juliet adjusted her load as she walked down the tunnel: a folder of paperwork from the Royal Opera House and her heavy score for Benjamin Britten’s War Requiem. She was learning it with her singing teacher, in preparation for a performance in the New Year. She loved the piece, but had never sung the solo, only the choruses in her choir days. It was difficult, but rewarding to learn.

 

Tom walked quickly along the damp street. He felt done in. The play was wonderful, an adrenaline trip, but exhausting. And then there were the fans. He loved them, but by the time he had finished signing and posing for pictures tonight he was near the end of his tether. He had spotted the two Japanese girls following him, so he was walking as fast as he could, but every now and then he could hear them behind. He pulled his trusty grey scarf up until it covered most of his face.

_Maybe I can shake them off on the Tube somewhere…_

He reached the station, but half-way down the tunnel towards the escalators he remembered his book, still on his dressing-table at the Donmar. He stopped dead in his tracks, furious with himself. That book helped him unwind and get to sleep.

_Fuck!_

 

Suddenly Juliet collided with something hard. Momentarily disorientated, she thought she must have been so distracted she had walked into the wall. Then she realised the “wall” was in fact the man who had passed her earlier, Mr Nice-Arse. And then she noticed that her papers, the flowers and the score were all on the floor.

‘Oh I’m so sorry! Are you OK?’

Juliet looked up from retrieving her stuff and found herself confronted with the most arresting pair of blue eyes, surrounded by a handsome, tired, oddly familiar face.

‘A person should never just stop like that, I’m so sorry. Please let me help you.’

The man bent his long legs into a crouch and began to reach for Juliet’s scattered belongings.

‘No, no, it’s fine. Are _you_ ok?’

She thought he looked unwell, his face was so pale and there was redness around those striking eyes. Then she heard giggling behind her and saw the eyes dart in that direction as his jaw tightened a little.

‘No, I’m fine. I just realised I left my book at work. Nothing vital, just annoying.’

Tom looked at the young woman who had walked into him. She was certainly pretty in her bright red coat, but she looked as tired as he felt. He picked up the plastic folder she had dropped and noticed it had the crest of the Royal Opera House on it. He took in the bunch of roses she had picked up and concluded she must be a singer at Covent Garden. Then he reached for the large soft-covered book.

‘Oh, the War Requiem. My mother absolutely _loves_ this!’ He handed it to Juliet.

‘Does she? Me too. I’m trying to learn one of the solo parts.’

Tom looked around. ‘Have we got everything?’

‘I think so. Thanks.’

The giggling again. Tom sighed, and all at once Juliet realised why she had recognised him. Even if she hadn’t seen him in a few films, his face was on posters all over town. He was the actor Tom Hiddleston, and the gigglers must be fangirls.

‘You’d better get going before they eat you.’ She smiled, jerking her head in their direction. He sighed again, but he felt reluctant to move. It was nice being close to her; she smelt wonderful.

‘Yes, well… sorry again. Oh, and good luck with the Britten.’

He set off down towards the trains.

 

_Well, that was nice._

Juliet laughed to herself. How could she think that walking smack-bang into someone and dropping all your stuff be nice? But it had been a pleasant interlude. She collected herself and continued to the platform. There was Tom again, and there were those Japanese girls as well, a little way off. He smiled at Juliet, and she decided to walk over to where he was standing. A train pulled in almost immediately. Tom stepped aside to allow her to board, and then joined her in the crowded carriage. He stood close to her and when the train moved the inevitable contact sent a thrill though her. He smelt wonderful, fresh and yet very male. She felt herself getting very warm.

‘Someone liked your performance this evening.’

He nodded at the roses. Juliet blushed, Tom noticed and thought it endearing.

‘Yes, it seems so.’

‘I’m sorry; I haven’t noticed what’s on.  What are you appearing in?’

‘Verdi’s _Falstaff_.’

‘Ah, I’m afraid I don’t know it. I know the character, of course.’

‘Yes, well, it’s mainly based on _The Merry Wives of Windsor **.’**_

‘It’s a comedy then?’

She nodded.

‘And you play…?’

He raised a questioning eyebrow and looked into her eyes. For several seconds she couldn’t remember and could only think about what those lips would taste like.

‘Er, Nanetta.  Anne in the play, Ford’s daughter in the Verdi version, rather than Page’s’.

‘Oh yes. Forbidden love. Very romantic.’

‘It is, actually, especially considering Verdi was very old when he wrote it.’

The train pulled into to Bond Street.

‘I’m changing here.’

‘Me too.’

Juliet felt a surge of relief; she didn’t want to stop talking to or looking at him just yet. They walked through the station together. As they turned a corner, Tom glanced to his left and spotted the fans still tagging along. His heart sank. He really wasn’t in the mood tonight, especially not now. He turned his attention back to his companion; she was very sexy. What a shame he was working so couldn’t go to see her perform, but he was pleased to observe that they were heading for the same platform at least.

‘How did your show go tonight?’

Tom chuckled softly. It was a delicious sound to Juliet’s ears. ‘Well, I think. It’s a great production.’

‘So I read. I tried to get tickets but no luck. And I really can’t queue for day tickets unfortunately.’

‘I can leave you some at the box office, if you’d like?’ He looked at her, smiling. Juliet’s heart started to beat very loudly in her ears. ‘We’re on until February.’

‘That would be lovely! Thank you, that’s really kind.’

A train rolled in and they boarded, finding seats together in this rather emptier carriage. Juliet noticed how wearily he lowered himself down; she had read about how physical his role was.

_He must be shattered after every performance._

Tom had his phone in his hand. ‘I’ll need your name, darling…’

Juliet’s breath caught in her throat. ‘Of course. Juliet Girling.’

‘Juliet? How Shakespearean.’

She gave him her number.

‘Your phone?’ His large hand was extended. She passed him her phone and he quickly added his number to her phonebook. ‘Text me when you’d like to come and I’ll sort you out two seats.’

_I’ve got Tom Hiddleston’s number!_

Juliet felt a surge of glee and had to repress the urge to make a squealing noise. She also felt the pressure of his thigh against hers. It was delicious and agonising in equal measure.

‘Have you got many more performances of _Falstaff_?’

‘Six more. We only do two or three a week. Too tough on the voices otherwise. We’re alternating with _Boh_ _ème_ and the ballet.

‘So you’re finishing before Christmas then. Nice.’ He looked wistful. He still had six weeks to go. ‘Have you sung at Covent Garden much before?’

‘This is my debut, actually.’

‘Oh really? How exciting! But you’ve worked elsewhere before?’

‘I’ve done several productions with ENO, and before that I was with English Touring Opera for 3 years.’

‘Much coming up?’

Juliet smiled. People in ‘the business’ always asked that question.

‘Well, I’ve got some concerts and recitals, and then I’m going to Paris in March to sing another Verdi, _Un Ballo In Maschera_. I know the role, Oscar the Page, but I’ve only sung it in English before.’

‘Wow, Paris. That’ll be fun.’

Juliet smiled weakly. She was scared; it was her first overseas contract. She had been excited, but now it was getting closer she was feeling more and more anxious about it. The train slowed to a stop and she realised with dismay that the next station was hers.

‘It’s me next. It’s been lovely to meet you.’

She giggled at his expression. ‘Lovely? I almost killed you by being an idiot!’

‘Slight exaggeration. I’m fine.’

Tom felt a sudden, overwhelming need to keep talking to her. The train stopped, and she stood up, moving towards the doors.

‘Bye.’

‘Don’t forget to text me!’

Juliet felt her heart moving rapidly towards her boots. The doors opened and she stepped reluctantly onto the platform. As she walked towards the exit she felt as if she was making a terrible error.

 

Tom watched her go, feeling similarly bereft. He had already gone past his own stop because he didn’t want it to end. He glanced down the carriage; the fangirls were still there. The doors closing alarm sounded, and Tom leapt up and out onto the platform just as they banged shut behind him. He couldn’t resist smiling and waving at the horrified faces of the girls as the train left the station. He looked ahead and just caught sight of Juliet’s red coat turning the corner. He set off at a run to catch her.

‘Juliet! Hang on!’ She was amazed to hear his voice as he came up behind her. She felt her heart leap in her chest. ‘May I walk you home? It’s the least I can do.’

She looked at him. He was gorgeous and he wanted to take her home. Why not? ‘Are you sure? It’s a fifteen-minute walk and you look shattered, if you don’t mind me saying.’

‘I’m OK. I need to clear my head anyway.’

They left the station and set off walking through the mostly deserted streets of north-west London.  The rain had stopped, but it was still cold and damp underfoot. Tom was charming and they chattered amiably. Juliet struggled to keep up with his long strides, but he soon noticed and slowed his pace. Stealing glances when he could, mainly he was just enjoying being in her company.

Juliet had an idea. ‘Oh, I’ve just thought. We’re doing a matinée next Tuesday. Could you come? I could arrange tickets.’

Tom thought for a moment. ‘What time is curtain-up?’

‘Two-thirty.’

‘That would be great, thanks!’ He was beaming. He was really excited at the prospect of hearing her sing and it would be worth the rush it would cause at the theatre. Then it occurred to him. ‘Any chance you could sing me something now?’

He was looking at her pleadingly. They stopped walking and stood quite close to one another. Juliet gazed at his lovely face.

‘Well…’

‘Oh it’s OK if you can’t.’

‘No, it’s not that, it’s choosing that’s tricky; I can give you a line or two, if you really want. There aren’t any arias as such, though. It’s not like most Verdi. Mostly to-and-fro.’

She thought for a moment. What to sing?

_Oh, I know._

‘OK, I need to set this up, and I’ll have to sing the tenor’s line first, but…’

He grinned ‘Whatever suits you.’ He just wanted to hear her sing.

‘Right, well, Nanetta and Fenton have been stealing kisses and hugs all through the scene, and at the end they have to part. So he sings…’

She sang softly in a lower register than her own.

**_‘Bocca baciata non perde ventura…’_ **

Then in her soprano, softer than usual but clearly:

**_‘Anzi rinnova come fa la luna, com-e fa la lun-a….’_ **

Her voice soared and sustained the final note. Tom thought it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Coming from so close by he felt it resonate through his body and it was unbelievably thrilling, almost visceral. His cock twitched; he had no idea that something like that could be so erotic. Juliet had closed her eyes when she sang the last phrase, and she opened them to see Tom looking shaken.

‘Was that OK?’

‘OK? It was utterly amazing,’ he said softly. ‘I can’t wait to hear the whole opera.’

Juliet couldn’t hide her delight at his reaction. She had wanted to please him more than whole audience earlier that evening. Tom shifted his bag to his other shoulder, and then extended his arm for Juliet to hook hers through. They set off again.

‘So, your turn, give _me_ a line or two.’ She nudged him playfully in the ribs.

‘OK. _‘Like a dull actor now,’’_ He paused, winking. _‘… I have forgot my part and I am out, even to a full disgrace.’’_

The first part he had delivered in his normal speaking voice, but after the wink he transformed into another person. He seemed to crumple, his voice breaking. Juliet was overwhelmed.

‘Wow. Beautiful.’ She looked up into his face. He looked wearier than ever.

‘That’s from the last scene. He’s not in a good place. Caius Martius, that is.’

‘I guessed.’ She laughed and a smile chased the tiredness from his face.

‘It must be tough, fighting and getting hung upside down to die every night.’

‘Oh, you know about that? Yes, it is a bit.’

Juliet squeezed his arm. They were getting near her flat and she didn’t want it to end just yet. She deliberately slowed down and he slowed with her. But eventually they reached the front door of her building.

‘Well, this is me.’

Tom sighed again. He didn’t want to say goodbye either. They both shuffled uncomfortably, unsure what to do. Then it occurred to Tom that with his schedule, and her production coming to an end there was no time to waste. He leaned in for a kiss. Juliet was momentarily startled, but then she lifted her face to meet his. He pressed his lips against hers, softly at first, then with more urgency. She returned his passion; their lips parted and their tongues met. He held her face, caressed her neck. Juliet felt lust coursing through her as she became aware of his hardness pressing against her. He was the most attractive man she had ever kissed and she wanted him.

They broke apart, both panting, foreheads still touching.

‘Would you like to come up?’

She was not normally so bold, but then she had never felt like this before. Her flat-mate was away…

Tom nodded, his tiredness forgotten. ‘I would, very much.’

His voice sounded low and hoarse. He didn’t normally do this sort of thing either, but the attraction he was feeling was overwhelming. Juliet unlocked the door and he followed her up a flight of stairs. They reached her door and she opened it. Before she could switch on the lights, Tom dropped his bag and caught her in an embrace. She threw her things onto the sofa and put her arms around his neck as he pushed her up against the closing door and they kissed again. Juliet reached over to the light switch; she wanted to be able to see him. Still locked at the lips, they removed their coats and tossed them aside. Tom nibbled on her lower lip and the thrill rushed through her body towards her core. She groaned and he smiled against her mouth.

_We can’t stay here._

Tom felt her grabbing a handful of his t-shirt and pulling him round, Juliet guided him across the flat.

‘My room.’

She murmured into his ear and he felt his burgeoning erection growing even harder. They stumbled into the darkened bedroom and Juliet sat on the bed and began to struggle with her boots.

‘Allow me, darling.’

Tom knelt at her feet and tugged the knee-length black boots off, running his hands up her calves as he did. Juliet groaned again. She had never been so out of control. All she could think about was having him inside her. She leaned forward and pulled at the zip on his black cardigan. He shrugged it off and then pulled his t-shirt over his head in one fluid movement. She did the same with her dress, and their lips met again as he straightened up and pulled her to him. His hands ran down her back and arms, then to her bra as he unfastened it. His head dipped and he sucked one nipple into his mouth as he caressed the other. Pushing against her gently, he made her lie back and his fingers curled inside her leggings and pulled them down, with her panties. One hand went straight to her sex.

_God, she’s wet._

‘Please, Tom…’

He kissed his way up the inside of her thigh, until she felt his breath on her slit. He paused, causing a moan of frustration, and then he ran his tongue the length of her wetness. Juliet had to stifle a scream of pleasure. He chuckled against her as his lips settled on her clit and he sucked hard before working it with his tongue. She squirmed beneath him and he had to hold her hips firmly to keep her still. She could feel her orgasm building when he stopped and rose up her body to kiss her again. She tasted her own arousal on his mouth and it was unbelievably exciting. Juliet reached down and tugged at Tom’s jeans.

_How come those are still on?_

Between them they removed the trousers and his boxers, so that his impressive erection stood proud. Juliet reached down to stroke it but he stopped her.

‘I’m too close, and I want to be inside you.’Her stomach did a back flip. ‘Do you have a condom?’

‘No. I don’t usually do this … but I’m on the pill, so…’ She watched his face, desperately hoping he would continue.

Tom weighed up his options briefly, before realising he couldn’t stop now anyway. He lined himself up between her legs and edged the head of his penis against her. She looked into his eyes. They both needed this so much, despite their mutual tiredness. He pushed into her with one stroke and she moaned loudly.

So _hard, so big._

Tom felt her grip him as her legs encircled his hips and she urged him to move within her, so he began to thrust. He wasn’t sure how long his dwindling energy would last, but he was so turned on, and she was so tight he didn’t think he’d need long. They moved together, sweating despite the coolness of the room, the only sounds their groans of pleasure, their bodies meeting and their heavy breathing. Juliet felt herself getting close again. Somehow he was stimulating her with every stroke by holding her at just the right angle. No lover had ever been able to make her come like that before, so this just might be a first. She nipped at his ear and neck gently, breathing in his scent. They kissed again and his tongue worked against hers in the same rhythm as his thrusts, which sent her over the edge. She found herself grunting obscenely into his mouth as her orgasm overtook her.

‘Oh god, Tom, oh my god.’

‘Was that good, darling?’

He whispered into her ear as his pace quickened, then his movements became ragged and he came inside her, calling her name. Falling back against the bed, Juliet looked at him as he collapsed to lie alongside her. He was beautiful, and so sexy, all ruffled and musky.

They cuddled for a few minutes, coming down slowly.

‘That was amazing. I have just one question. No, two, actually.’

Juliet was puzzled. ‘Questions?’

‘Firstly, can I stay?’

‘Of course. Just try and leave!’ Tom chuckled as she grabbed his arm. Juliet snuggled into his neck and hummed.

‘What’s that you’re singing?’

‘Just another bit of _Falstaff._ Not from my part, but it seemed appropriate.’

She sang the words softly.

**_‘Il viso tuo sul me risplendera, …come una stella, come una stella sul l’immensita’_ **

Tom looked at her, his eyebrows raised. Juliet smiled and lifted her head up to look back at him.

‘It means ‘your face will shine upon me like a star in space…’ or something like that, anyway.’’

He grinned.

‘What was your other question?’

‘I was wondering, what do those other lines mean, the ones you sang to me earlier?’

‘Ah. Fenton’s saying, ‘A mouth that is kissed is never unlucky,’ and Nanetta is responding, ‘Rather it renews itself, like the moon …’’

‘Well, he’s right there…’Tom rolled over and kissed her again, softly but deeply. ‘…I want to keep on kissing your mouth.’

‘And I want to keep letting you.’


End file.
